


The King of the Faeries

by hidethemoon



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fairy Tale Elements, Gen, Magic, One Shot, other great stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-02
Updated: 2016-12-02
Packaged: 2018-09-06 02:42:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8731654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hidethemoon/pseuds/hidethemoon
Summary: Harry learns about a mysterious secret regarding an old faerie King. AU, implied future Harry/Tom.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I got this idea while listening to 'King of the Faeries' by Cecile Corbel. I suggest a listen, it's a very beautiful song! Repost from my ff.net, I'm trying to move all my stories from there to here.

 "Your name is a golden bell hung in my heart. I would break my body to pieces to call you once by your name." -Peter S. Beagle, _The Last Unicorn_

 

In the dark castle with its many strange and beautiful secrets was where Harry Potter felt the most at home.

Much of Hogwarts was often left unexplored, sometimes even forbidden from students. A great number of of them tended to avoided any frivolous explorations into the dusty corridors and locked rooms, preferring to stick to what they knew. To them, the castle was a majestic goliath that you simply didn't go poking around in and stirring up the old magic, much like a slumbering dragon. But to Harry Potter, Hogwarts was _home_. He felt no such reservations within such a magical place. The ancient stone walls imbued with centuries of old magic felt warm and inviting, singing beneath his fingertips as he trailed them across the smooth surface. He felt as if he knew the castle, and the castle in turn embraced him as one of her very own special children.

The charmed stairs, notorious for their mischief, took him to his correct destination every time. Secret passages would whisper their secrets to him as he passed. Singing stones would alight beneath his feet on certain corridors, and a sweet, haunting tune would follow him as he walked. The hundreds of paintings always greeted him happily, namely because he found great pleasure in conversing for hours with every portrait he could find—he loved to hear their stories, and the paintings were more than happy to tell him, as they were awfully full of themselves. His magic came alive at Hogwarts, and the castle was more than happy to indulge him.

Even the ghosts had come to enjoy his company. Harry had quickly learned that the ghosts became greatly peeved when the living danced around the fact that the ghosts were, indeed, dead. They held no shame or regret in their states of being, and held a culture of their own. Instead, Harry came to converse with them much as he did the paintings, learning of their histories and stories and telling them a bit of his own. He also found that many of the ghosts delighted in recounting their deaths, the more gruesome the better. One of their greater joys was asking Harry what he ate that day, and describing it in great detail. Ghosts, it seemed, missed food the most. 

It was Harry's love of old magic and old stories that truly endeared him to the castle and its inhabitants. He loved faerie tales and magical history, ancient magic and secrets lost to time. They enthralled him, ensnared him like no other subject had yet to achieve. Even the muggle versions of faerie tales, banned from his aunt's home ever since he could remember, had captivated him as a boy. Their forbidden nature had only enticed him further, and he often dreamt of the stories he read, or reimagined them in his head and traced their plots onto his old mattress. He loved it all.

And it was his love of faerie tales that one day prompted the Grey Lady to tell him one of her very own favorite tales, plucked from legend— _The Faerie King_.

He met with her most often, as she was one of the few ghosts with the richest of memories that involved thousands of stories, centuries old. She was his favorite storyteller, and she held a deep fondness for him as well. 

"Come, Harry," she motioned with her hand. Harry followed without question. She led him to their favorite spot, a shadowed and forgotten nook on the sixth floor where a great window arched long and beautiful, overlooking the west side of the castle grounds. Harry adored the rolling green hills in the distance, the glimpse of the Forbidden Forest circling the Quidditch pitch. He often talked with Helena Ravenclaw here, watching the sky and the grounds as she spun some new story in her soft, lilting voice.

"You love faerie tales most, do you not?"

Harry's head whipped around excitedly. "Of course, I adore them! They're my absolute favorite."

She smiled gently, amused. "Then I have the perfect one for you, Mr. Potter. It is one of my favorite tales of all time, though it has been…forgotten, for quite some time. Have you ever heard the tale of the King of Faeries?"

Harry wracked his brain, trying to remember such a story, but could not. He shook his head. "I have read the Faerie Queen, but never one about a King. Will you tell it to me?"

She smiled and nodded. "Of course. This story holds a particularly special place in my heart, as Hogwarts is a part of it. It is as old as the earliest centuries of Hogwarts herself, and I fear most written versions of this tale may have perished. If any exist, I have not heard of them. But I want you to listen very closely to this tale, Mr. Potter. This story, like many faerie tales, has some grain of truth to it."

The Grey Lady cleared her throat, gathered her thoughts, and began her story. Harry, as always, listened with rapt attention.

"Many centuries ago, the first Faerie King died. Though faeries are immortal creatures by design, they are susceptible to diseases, curses, and other unnatural disasters, as most creatures are. The first King was defeated by an extraordinarily powerful curse, one that slowly sapped his life until nothing remained. It is said that he angered a great sorceress by refusing her his son's hand in marriage. The king did not trust the sorceress, and was right to do so—she intended to use the son's immortal life and magic to empower herself greatly, beyond compare, to the detriment of the son.

She grew terribly angry, and unfortunately the king was struck by her retaliating curse. Before his death, the king bequeathed the throne to his only son, Thomas. His son had lived a great many years already, and was prepared to rule the kingdom in the wake of his father's ancient rule. He was a worthy successor, fair and just and ambitious, and would continue the kingdom's greatness. But, unbeknownst to either of them, the witch's curse was not complete.

Once the son took over the throne, it was not long before his body slowly began to turn to stone. First the extremities, his toes, his fingers, and then it slowly spread up his arms and legs over the passage of many years. The son grew fretful and began to search everywhere for a cure. He brought all sorts of magic users from all over the world to see if they could find a cure for his curse. Humans, magic folk, centaurs, elves and many others lent aid to Thomas. None of their attempts were successful, and eventually Thomas ventured out of his kingdom in search for a cure.

The stone curse was slow, but spreading more surely with each passing year. He could hardly walk by the time he left his kingdom, and relied heavily on his favorite horse as a means of travel.

He went all over the Isles searching for something to stop the stone curse. He eventually came upon a castle, our very own Hogwarts, and decided to try his luck with the magical people within its walls.

The witches and wizards of Hogwarts welcomed the Faerie King, and used their vast knowledge of magic to try to help him. They exhausted the library, the old secrets of the castle, but nothing seemed to fix the curse of the old sorceress. Thomas stayed for years, hoping for a solution, but his legs and arms had quickly become ensconced in the stone. He could hardly move any longer.

The magical people of Hogwarts never could find a way to help the Faerie King, and one day he simply vanished. They never saw him again, and were certain he had left to seek the cure elsewhere. But word soon reached them that the faerie kingdom was in disarray without their king, who had never returned. His cousin Verbena, who had been appointed Queen in his absence, searched for him for many years until she was forced to believe he had succumbed to his curse. 

King Thomas was never heard from again, and many believe he found a quiet place to allow the curse to take over. They believe there is a stone faerie somewhere out there, waiting to be found and for the curse to be reversed so that the King of Faeries may return to his kingdom."

Harry was watching her carefully, his brow furrowed. She knew that look well, and knew he was bursting to ask her a question. She paused in her story, waiting for him to speak.

"You know where he is?" he asked suddenly and she smiled softly. He always listened so carefully to her words, catching things that few else did. The boy should have been a Ravenclaw, but regretfully he was a Gryffindor. She could not fault the hat for placing him there—though Harry was extraordinarily clever and quick, he was an immensely courageous boy, loyal to a fault. He would always follow the right course of action, even if it was not the easiest or wisest. His heart was Gryffindor through and through. The hat did not make mistakes.

"Yes, I believe know where Thomas is," she said softly. "But not his exact location. Though I myself have searched for many centuries, I have not been able to find him. I also have told no one my suspicions, or even this story, and simply let it be forgotten."

"But why?" Harry asked curiously. "And why did you tell me after all this time?"

"Because," she whispered, leaning forward close to his bespectacled face, "I think you can help me. I feared reminding the magical world of this story because they either would not believe it, or seek King Thomas for their own gain. The faerie kingdom is secretive and stays out of human affairs, but they would pay a high price to have their King back. Any being that found and revived Thomas, or even delivered his stone body to the faeries, would find themselves lavished with faerie treasures and magic, something precious and rare. Many humans would kill for those treasures."

Harry's brow furrowed in consternation again. "So…people would want to use this opportunity to become rich, or famous?"

"That's right."

"And you think I won't?"

Helena smiled genially. "I know you won't, Mr. Potter. You want to find him—and I know you do already, I can see it in your eyes—to help him, and nothing more. Now, where do you think he is?"

Harry thought back over her story, and the answer jumped out at him quickly. "He's here, at Hogwarts. He never left."

She grinned and clasped her ghostly hands together. "Yes, child. I don't know where he is, exactly, but I am quite certain that he is somewhere in this castle, or perhaps even on the grounds. I have not entirely ruled out the Forbidden Forest, but my form is limited to the castle and I cannot search there myself. Of course, this castle also has many secrets that even I do not know, and my mother never deigned to tell me. Perhaps together we can find him this time, Mr. Potter."

He could feel his body vibrating with a new, excited energy. Not only had he heard one of the most fantastic stories of his life today, but it was potentially true and he was going to help solve the mystery! He vowed then, no matter the cost, that he would do everything in his power to find the Faerie King and perhaps even find a way to fix him.

The Grey Lady observed his determination and smiled, certain she had made the right choice in telling young Harry about her lifelong quest. She had grown immeasurably fond of the child, and could see her own love of wild magic and faerie tales in him so deeply that she could not help but to share with him.

After centuries of searching, she finally felt hopeful that King Thomas would be found at last.

-:-

Harry was a distracted boy by nature, his head usually spinning with fantastical tales or the wild adventures of his imagination. He did reasonably well in his classes, considering his inattention, and the professors eventually learned to leave him be. He did well enough, and never seemed to struggle much with spells or assignments or even theory. His intense love of magic seemed to spur his learning through sheer passion.

Ever since he had heard Helena's story, however, Harry's flighty attention span turned into full daydreaming. He could think of nothing but King Thomas, where he could be, how to help him. He was so focused on his new puzzle that class materials slipped right out of his head.

The professors began to notice, and for the first time Harry began to get into trouble. His slipping grades required after-class attention, they began to call his name in class to recall him back to the physical world, and in a few instances points were taken.

At this, Harry realized he needed to figure out King Thomas's mystery quickly, before matters became worse. He could never give up his little puzzle, but school was important, and he loved learning about magic. He would just have to look harder.

He made a visit to the library every day it was open, poring over the massive texts in search of a clue about some of Hogwart's secrets. Every now and then a title would jump out at him, but comparing his findings with Helena would send him back to square one-she already knew about anything he found, and had already searched. Much of the castles secrets were not so secret to her, and there were so many she simply forgot to mention them all to Harry.

Harry was beginning to grow frustrated. He couldn't find anything! Perhaps Hogwart's most secret of secrets were too heavily guarded for him to ever find them. But then, how had King Thomas found a hiding spot so secluded and mysterious that he could not be found for centuries? There had to be something he was missing, some clue to put him in on the right path.  He was determined to find it.

He spent several weeks in the library, so frequently that Madam Pince became unusually accustomed to his presence and offered a grim smile every time he visited. The many shelves of the library held such vast and ancient knowledge that he initially felt overwhelmed by his task. With time, though, he came to know exactly where the texts pertaining to the early days of Hogwarts and its construction resided. Fortunately for Harry, the books only filled up one bookshelf, with a little room to spare. He wouldn't have to spend weeks poring over titles and skimming through pages, but it would still take a lot of time. Harry didn't mind. He was nothing if not determined.

It took those many weeks for him to finally find something that could be _it_. There had been many false starts, the discovery of something he had never heard of but Helena already knew about and had explored ages ago. The Room of Requirement, Helga Hufflepuff's secret study (she had gone there many times as child, being very close to Helga, and remembered its location), numerous hidden walls and disappearing doors that led to hidden rooms or other parts of the castle, and they had all been searched by Helena. But finally Harry had found something else, and this time Helena was just as clueless as he.

He shoved the book under her ghostly nose, a faded blue hard-bound tome that read more like a journal than the non-fiction droning of most Hogwarts books. _The Secret Sphere_ was embossed in faded silver on the spine. Preservation charms had kept the book from deteriorating too badly, though it was rather shabby and the pages yellowed.

"It's not very long," Helena observed, unable to grasp the book but still studied it curiously.

"No. I think it might actually be somebody's journal, and was just archived as a historical book. I haven't gotten very far in, but it seemed promising!" His excitement practically oozed off of him. Helena couldn't hold back a smile.

"Well, let's finish it and see if it tells us how to find this place."

The book was roughly forty pages, filled with long paragraphs of scrawling, looping text that Harry had a hard time deciphering. Much of the vocabulary was outdated, something he couldn't quite grasp or had to search for context clues to get an idea, but Helena could read it flawlessly. She finally took to reading the passages out loud to him, as even the slanting cursive gave him a headache.

With Helena reading aloud, it took them no time at all to finish the journal.

"He sure loves to go on about himself, doesn't he?" Harry scoffed in reference to the unnamed author. Quite a few of the entries had been reflections about the author's past, and often had little to do with any sort of Secret Sphere. What they had learned, though, was invaluable.

"The seventh floor. My mother tended to avoid that floor, for some reason, and I did as well by association. I much preferred the lower floors, especially during summers where they were kept cool. I always knew there were many secrets yet unobtained there, and suspected he may have vanished there. Perhaps he is in this room."

"You really think so?" Harry was so enthused that Helena sincerely hoped this would not be another dead end.

"It is very possible. You've made a great discovery, young Mister Potter."

Harry beamed. Of course he loved making Helena proud, but more than anything he wanted to solve this grand faerie tale mystery. He wanted to find King Thomas.

"When can we start looking for it?" he asked excitedly. The sun was currently setting, streaking the sky with brilliant golds, and Helena turned to smile at him regretfully.

"Not today, Harry. It will very soon be time for you to go to dinner. Tomorrow is Sunday, and we can begin our search then. Oh, don't look so despondent, child, I assure you Thomas is not going anywhere. The search can wait."

Harry frowned unhappily, but he knew Helena was right. He was very eager to begin searching but he would be missed at the Great Hall and he was getting a little hungry. He sighed heavily. "Okay, fine, we'll start tomorrow. You win."

The ghostly woman smiled beautifully. "Of course I do. Now, go eat and get some rest. Meet me on the seventh floor tomorrow as soon as you like, and we can begin."

"Okay, deal," Harry said, shoving the book into his bag. "I'll see you tomorrow Helena!" He waved goodbye and fled down the stairs, hoping to get to dinner on time.

Helena waved in return, watching his retreat with a small smile. Once he was gone she floated toward the ceilings, making her way to the seventh floor. Harry would be upset that she started without him, but she wanted to begin the search immediately. The less time they spent looking for him, the better, in her opinion.

-:-

"You started without me!"

Helena couldn't help but smile at Harry's petulance. She was correct in assuming he would be upset with her, but what was done was done. 

"I apologize for my early start, but I think you will agree with me when I say finding King Thomas sooner rather than later would be for the best. Right, Harry?"

"Yeah, well...I guess!" Harry pouted, throwing his hands up into the air. "I just wanted to start with you."

"Come, Harry, I got all the boring work out of the way. Searching for this room is the most tedious part, and I've cleared over half the floor." She could already see Harry's hackles settling again as the boy shrugged.

"I guess so. I don't really have the patience for all that, anyway. Thanks for doing most of it already, Helena." He offered her a grin, letting her know he wasn't really upset with her, just in case she thought he was. She hadn't.

"How have you been checking everything?" he asked curiously, unsure of how to go about the search. He couldn't exactly detect magical signatures, and he wasn't sure the castle would be so forthcoming about the location of the Secret Sphere as it was about other minor hidden passages and rooms. This was something he was going to have to find on his own, and he had little idea on how to start.

"I am of course able to go through the walls of Hogwarts, so I have been searching for barriers in the walls that would indicate a hidden room. I have already found two secret passages, but they were not protected and I found nothing within them but spiders and dust. That is the only way I know to search for hidden rooms. Our author friend said nothing about where exactly the Secret Sphere was located, but we still have areas to search. It must be here somewhere."

"How should I look for hidden rooms? I can't exactly go through walls," Harry asked. He was more than a little disappointed that he couldn't be of more help to Helena.

"Look for inconsistencies, things out of place, tap the walls. Sometimes the walls to a hidden room or passage can be rather thin, and you will hear the difference. Take your time, but do not stress if you don't find anything. It may not be so simple."

"Okay," Harry agreed hesitantly. He still wasn't sure he would be much help to Helena, but he would do what he could.

He watched with one eye as Helena floated back and forth through walls and examined a few errant stones and paintings, the patient calm on her face never once wavering. Harry himself was already beginning to grow frustrated after several minutes of tapping the stones and scouring the mortar for anything odd. Everything looked the same! Even the old magic that curled around his fingers in response to his touch felt the same.

Deciding to be more patient like his companion, Harry held his tongue about his frustrations and continued to look up and down the stone walls, tapping and searching for discolored mortar and softly asking the paintings and tapestries if they knew of anything that could help them. The paintings were supremely happy to lend assistance, but unfortunately most of them had been painted a few centuries or so after the construction of Hogwarts. They did not know anything about secret floors or rooms. One tapestry, depicting a beautifully constructed crystalline castle, gave Harry pause. On the vibrant green threads that formed the grassy knolls in front of the castle stood a grey horse, grazing happily, and a young woman wearing armor collapsed next to it. She appeared to be sleeping, perhaps, but a cursory greeting from Harry had the tapestry woman sitting up to look at him.

"Um, I'm very sorry for disturbing you. You wouldn't happen to know anything about a room called the Secret Sphere, would you, milady?" Harry asked kindly.

The lady frowned deeply, looking him up and down, then returned to her prone position and tossed one arm over her face. The grey horse looked up at him, munching on some thread-grass, then casually walked out of the tapestry.

Harry sighed deeply and turned away. He knew better than to force any of the Hogwart's paintings or tapestries to talk, but he was so desperate for help that he couldn't get rid of the urge to grab the tapestry and shake it. That, though, would be incredibly rude, and Harry was _not_ rude.

A painting across the hall, a portrait of a fat old man wearing an elaborate red collar encrusted with numerous jewels, harrumphed loudly. "My! You never will get old Maveryne to talk, m'boy, never says nary a word even to us! We stopped trying to engage her many a year ago. Not worth the effort for a gal that won't talk, no it t'ain't."

Harry smiled genially, enjoying the way the man's hair-piece jiggled precariously on his head every time he moved. "No, I suppose she doesn't want to talk to me, sir. That's alright, she doesn't have to."

The man made to tip his hat, but wasn't wearing one, and ended up tipping his wig instead. He hastily moved to set the wig back on his head, his rounded cheeks reddening considerably. Harry suppressed a giggle and waved goodbye, moving to the next section of wall to begin his search anew.

Helena and Harry searched nearly the entire morning and afternoon, clearing the seventh floor and finding absolutely nothing. Harry dropped to the floor in a heap, putting his head in his hands. Helena frowned down at him.

"This is just the first look around, Harry, it is possible we missed some small detail. We can come back soon and try again."

Harry frowned, going back over everything in his head. Yes, it was possible that they missed some very small detail, something that either one of them could have easily dismissed. Perhaps it was on the other half of the floor, where he himself hadn't searched? He wasn't convinced. Something in his gut was telling him it was something now, today, that he had missed. He frowned.

"Helena, I was asking the portraits for help, but there was this one tapestry that wouldn't say a word to me. I thought, maybe, she was just didn't want to talk or couldn't or something, but what if she knows something and is just protecting a secret? What if she's the entrance?"

Helena's ghostly face pinched into a frown. "A tapestry that wouldn't talk to you? Show it to me."

Harry led her to the tapestry of the crystalline castle. It was about halfway down one of the side corridors, a massive thing covering a large stretch of the stone wall. The portrait of the fat man across from it appeared to be asleep, his whistling snores breaking the eerie Sunday silence of the corridor.

Maveryne was right where he had left her, spread on the grass with a hand over her eyes. The horse was back, swishing it's threaded tail while it grazed around Maveryne's head.

"Excuse me,er,  Maveryne?" Harry tried, his voice soft and hesitant. The horse raised its gray neck to stare at him. When the lady didn't respond he looked up at Helena, lost. She gently prompted him to try again. "I'm sorry to bother you, but this is very important. We're looking for the Secret Sphere, and we know it's on the seventh floor, but we're having trouble finding it. Please, can you help us?"

"We?" came a deep-intoned voice. The woman had lifted her head, but it wasn't her that had spoken. The horse was still staring directly at him, its black eyes sharp. "You and this ghost?"

"Yes, I am Helena Ravenclaw," the ghost spoke, not seeming surprised at all that it was the horse speaking to them. Harry was a little lost. Maveryne (or maybe the horse's name was Maveryne) was still looking at them, silent.

"The daughter of Rowena. I knew her well, but never knew you. Why is this?"

"My mother tended to keep me busy on the lower floors, and I preferred it there anyway. I also spent much of my time with Helga, when my mother was busy." Helena grimaced. "She didn't always have much time for me."

The grey horse flicked its head, accepting her slightly bitter answer. "Yes, Rowena mentioned a daughter. It is good to meet you at last, even if we are terribly late about it. Who is the boy?"

Harry squirmed under the tapestry horse's oddly intense gaze. He felt compelled to speak. "My name is Harry Potter. You're Maveryne?"

"Yes, boy, I am Maveryne. My tapestry is nearly as old as this castle, and yet I remain as pristine as ever. Age cannot touch that which holds such great magic." Harry smiled internally; how vain was this horse! "You ask about the Secret Sphere?"

"Yes, do you know of it?" Harry asked breathlessly. "We've been looking for ages."

The horse seemed to pause, watching them carefully. "And why do you search for this place? Not many know of it. How did you come across this knowledge?"

Harry looked back at Helena, a little lost, and she urged him to continue. She wanted him to do this. "Well," he began, turning back to Maveryne, "Helena told me of an old story, about a young Faerie King turned to stone. She feels he is still in Hogwarts, and has been searching for the King for centuries. She entrusted me with the story because I...I love stories of magic deeply, they enchant me. And no story has ever enchanted me more. That it could be true is just amazing. I wish to help her find King Thomas and cure him of the sorceress's curse so he can live again, and return to his kingdom. And...I came across a book, in the library, about a room called the Secret Sphere, and I wondered if that could be it! If that could be the room. Do you know anything about it?"

Maveryne's threaded black eyes were sharp, unmoving. It looked at Harry for several quiet moments in which Harry fidgeted visibly, nervous. "You seek the Faerie King, then," Maveryne spoke at last, their deep voice thrumming with a strange harmonic that even Harry could feel in his spine. "Surely you do not just wish to cure the King? You must want something. You could have anything, you know, if he were to be found."

Harry's brow furrowed. "I want to return him to his people. I want him to live, not to be trapped as a stone person forever. He should be free. I want to undo the curse. I want to help! If--if that's what you mean...that's all I want."

The horse's head waved from side to side, slowly, almost hypnotising. "That cannot be all, child. You could have gold. Money. The faeries would give you so many treasures of immeasurable worth if you found their King. You would be rich. They would owe you a favor, a grand one, one they cannot refuse. You could ask for anything. Is that not...appealing?"

Harry's frown increased. Why was Maveryne asking him this? He didn't want any of that. He said as much. "No, Maveryne, I don't want any of those things. I am happy here, at Hogwarts. I don't want...treasures, or favors. I don't want to be rich. I just want to help the King."

"But why?" Maveryne seemed to hiss.

"There is nothing I love more than magic and stories. I love faerie tales, ancient stories, feeling old magic and learning everything there is to know. When Helena told me this story, a faerie tale that was true and real, I could feel the magic. A different kind of magic, that I can't name, but I feel it. I _need_ to help him."

Maveryne's head reared up, the thickly-threaded grey mane rippling over the tapestry, a majestic dark flag. "I can sense it in you. You want nothing material. No gain. You are a strange boy, Harry Potter. Many have come to me, asking for help and passage, but I have refused them all. They would grow angry, hysterical, begging for the riches just out of their grasp. I refused them again! They did not care about the King, only what he and his kingdom could give them. It has been so many years, child, since anyone has come to me asking for passage."

Harry's breath caught in his throat as Maveryne circled before the crystalline castle as they spoke, cantering in a wide berth that widened slowly, slowly. The grass was darkening. The quiet lady had left the tapestry long ago.

"You are the one he has been waiting for. I will allow you passage, Harry Potter, and you, Helena of Ravenclaw. The King will return."

The circle Maveryne created darkened, swirled, and widened, until the tapestry nearly disappeared and there was a large, dark hole in the ancient wall of Hogwarts where Maveryne's castle once stood.

"Wow," Harry breathed in amazement.

Behind him, Helena's ghostly dark eyes were glittering happily. "Let's go, Harry. You've done King Thomas a great service today. My search is finally complete." She ushered Harry in first and he climbed through the hole, a little afraid, as he couldn't see anything.

He crawled through a very short tunnel in the wall and climbed down into a relatively small room, considering the size of the other many rooms Hogwarts contained. It was, to his great excitement, shaped mostly like a sphere. The rounded walls and ceiling curved down into a flat floor. The room was barren except for what appeared to be the statue of a man in the center of the floor. Harry inched closer to it, unconsciously holding his breath. He didn't want to breath, or blink, or do anything but look upon the stone man.

Upon closer inspection the man didn't appear entirely human. He had the face of a man, eyes closed, with a stone nose and mouth. His proportions appeared strangely long, not comically so, but longer and more elegant than any human could accomplish. Long legs, long arms, long torso and neck. He appeared almost frail, but Harry knew better than to think faeries were frail creatures. The stone wings on his back drooped low and long, curled around his legs elegantly. Harry did not think he had ever seen a more beautiful creature in his entire life.

"He's so beautiful, Helena. I can't believe it...we found him." He reached out a slow hand to touch the stone body, but Helena reached out to stop him.

"One moment, please, Harry. I don't know what touching him will do...it could even possibly transfer the curse to you. We must be careful with magic we know nothing about."

Harry withdrew, disappointed. "You're right. I just--I feel compelled to touch him. I can't explain it. Like nothing else matters to me right now but reaching out and...touching him," Harry murmured. His eyes were slightly glazed. Helena frowned.

"There is magic here still, affecting you now. Maybe we should not be here until we can know more."

"No! No...I--I have to…" Before Helena could stop him, Harry's hand darted out and grasped Thomas's stone hand that curled on his chest. The stone was surprisingly warm, not at all cold and lifeless as he had expected. He could feel a faint pulse, something throbbing under his hand that suddenly seemed to burn through his own body. He gasped and Helena swept towards him with a cry. He could barely hear her distraught shouts, focused as he was on King Thomas.

Before his eyes the stone seemed to slowly crack apart, starting with little veins spider-webbing from King Thomas's hand that widened and began to fall from him in pieces that crashed loudly to the floor. Smooth fair skin was revealed, tinged with a beautiful lavender that Harry suddenly thought was the most beautiful color in the world. It clashed quite beautifully with his own darker skin. The stone cracked and fell quickly, revealing the long delicate wings that immediately flared behind him like proud purple sails, fluttering in a wind that didn't exist. That beautiful faerie face was revealed, with a sharp jaw and clever mouth and a shock of thick black hair that curled sweetly around his face. Finally the large dark eyes opened, near black in their intensity, and larger than any human eyes could ever be. They were frightening, and Helena indeed retreated slightly, but Harry thought he had never and would never see more beautiful eyes again.

"You broke the curse," Thomas whispered his first words in centuries, voice thick and raspy, with eyes only for Harry. "After all this time…..you are not what I expected, childe."

"I don't know how I did it," Harry admitted, slightly breathless. His head finally felt clear again, but he found that he still couldn't take his eyes off King Thomas. The faerie was nude, and his wings curled protectively around his body, but Harry hardly noticed his nudity.

"I know how," Thomas admitted softly, looking curiously upon Harry. His eyes eventually drifted toward Helena, who was smiling serenely. "You came with him?"

"Yes, I told him of your story and he has helped me greatly in searching for you. I have been searching for many years, but without Harry I do not think you would have ever been found. He has my eternal gratitude," Helena said, the pale translucent grey of her body seeming somehow more solid with happiness and pride.

"He has mine as well," Thomas smiled, turning to look back at Harry, who was still gazing at him with such enchanted eyes. "I know such things as 'true love' are the common cures in faerie tales, but what happened here was not quite the same as something so simple. I had found, before I succumbed to this curse, what it would take to banish it. At the time I had so little hope that it would ever happen. I hid myself away, in the most secret of secret places I could find, hoping that someday my luck would change." Thomas leaned forward, his eyes seeming ever larger in his thin face. "Only a being with purest intentions and fated to love would find the path to my stone body, and upon touching me, would break me free."

"Fated to love?" Harry murmured, dazed.

"Me," Thomas elaborated, reaching a lavender-hued hand to Harry's cheek. "Only a being fated to love me, with a pure heart and mind. It is strange, yes, and potentially...restricting, I know. But magic rarely makes mistakes."

"Fated to love you." Harry searched those eerie black eyes. Fated to love a faerie King, surely not--not him? He was only a thirteen year old boy. Faeries could not love a wizard, could they? So grand and beautiful a creature, chained to his mortal body by love...Harry could hardly think of it without his heart clenching painfully.

Thomas seemed to sense his thoughts. "If magic has given us this fate, then it is a fate I will embrace with all my being. Harry, you are more special than anyone could hope to be. You cured me of a centuries-long curse, and I can return to my people. And, eventually, when you are ready, you will come to my kingdom with me. You are too young yet, and I will not take advantage of your youth. Love will come later, when we are ready for it to be here. Magic does not pair mortals with creatures without good reason, Harry--it has a way of making it work. I don't know how this will manifest, but I do not fear it. I anticipate it. Harry?"

Harry looked terribly overwhelmed, and Helena was watching him carefully, but he had yet to take his eyes from Thomas. Thomas had such faith in Magic, and Harry couldn't help but feel the same. Magic had cradled him lovingly his whole life, and he loved it so thoroughly in return. Trailing the halls of Hogwarts, speaking to paintings and ghosts, longing to speak to the magical creatures that would tolerate his presence, aching to see the Magic coursing around him everywhere he went...he worshipped Magic, where so many took it for granted. And Magic had favored him so grandly that it granted him a priceless fate.

He nodded, and King Thomas smiled.

"The future will have many great things in store for us, Harry Potter, when you are ready. It will not be without its tests and trials, but you will face those when the time comes. For now, cherish your youth. Learn your stories and your magic, and I will come for you when the time is right."


End file.
